


Blueprinting

by esama



Series: Iron Desmond [2]
Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Altered Mental States, Alternate Universe, Crossover Pairings, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Don't copy to another site, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Temporary Amnesia, The Animus (Assassin's Creed), Trust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:27:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24593026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esama/pseuds/esama
Summary: Tony and Yinsen finish Animus 3.0
Relationships: Desmond Miles & Jarvis (Iron Man movies), Desmond Miles/Tony Stark
Series: Iron Desmond [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1757992
Comments: 97
Kudos: 1632





	Blueprinting

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread by Nimadge, many thanks

"Calibrating virtual environment, translating DNA data – reconfiguring… uploading presets 1 through 5. Engaging simulated waiting room."

"What – what is this?"

"Mr. Miles, please stay calm – the simulation is still loading."

Desmond looks up, confused, as everything is sort of – drawn up around him. Floor under him, walls, ceiling, windows, sky. It's a room, but it's nothing like any room he's ever been in – the colours are off, all too vibrant, glowing golden bits and pieces here and there, circuitry. Everything is just a little too big and little too vast – little too stuck and little too light. Like there's no gravity.

"Where am I?" he murmurs and his voice echoes. "I was just – I was elsewhere, where am I?"

"You are in the preload program of the Animus, Mr. Miles – please, stay calm. Doctor Yinsen says the confusion is temporary."

"Okay," Desmond answers to the bodiless voice and watches the golden circuitry draw up patterns and forms and a chandelier above him. "Is – is that you, are you the golden stuff?"

"That is indeed me, Mr. Miles – please hold as I finish recalibration."

"Okay," Desmond says again and waits, watching the circuitry grow and withdraw, like a water droplet racing down a window pane, splitting and joining together and leaving behind faint traces where it had passed. Everything seems a little more solid when the circuitry has passed.

"Desmond?" another voice, more familiar and less smooth. "JARVIS is telling us you are having issues? How are you hanging in there?"

"I – don't –" Desmond says and steps back as the circuitry forms up patterns before him, coloured tiles, drawings – circles and lines. It's pretty. "Where am I?"

"Desmond, you have a temporary memory disconnection," a third voice – it's all so confusing. This voice speaks with an accent, and Desmond trusts it implicitly. "To prevent the previous multiple awareness issues, we're keeping you separate from your memories – it will pass, you will remember what you need in a moment."

"That," Desmond says slowly. "Is either awesome or terrifying, that you can do that, and I'm not sure which is worse."

Laughter. "You said, yes. Let JARVIS finish building up your memory palace, alright?" the second voice.

"Is that what he's doing?" Desmond asks, watching the circuitry move and build. "It's pretty."

"Yeah, it is," the second voice says, and there are distant, echoing murmurs, and then it continues. "Yinsen is telling me to keep talking to you, so I'm going to keep talking. What you're seeing is JARVIS shifting through your DNA files – all distinctive memories within your DNA. You'll remember what that means in a bit – but the gist of it is, there's so much data in your DNA, and it's gotten so scrambled by our previous forays into the Animus tech, both willing and not, that, well… you need a bit of a spring cleaning, shall we say. The nightmares were getting really bad."

"Okay," Desmond says, agreeable, even though he can't remember any of it. "What's a DNA?"

Another bout of warm laughter. "It's a bunch of nonsense, and it was building up into a big problem for you, and now we're dealing with it, with our spiffy new Animus 3.0. Unfortunately there is no nice off-screen way to take out your genetic memory and straighten it all out – since it's all in your head, so to speak. So, you gotta endure it for a bit while JARVIS pokes around your ancestral insides. Okay?"

"Mr. Stark, that's hardly reassuring," the third voice says. "Desmond, we are in essence rebuilding a three-dimensional representation of your ancestral memories, which will be easier for your mind to handle rather than – say, a file structure. This way you will have structures, houses, streets and whatnot, to correlate with specific memories – something human minds are far more able to handle than computer data the Animus was condensing your genetic memories into. It is, in essence, a mind palace."

"I don't know what that is either, but I'll take your word for it," Desmond says and tilts his head as the golden flickering circuitry sneaks out of wide open, thirty foot doors and into the glowing outside. After a moment of thought, Desmond moves to follow.

Outside, they're not building a palace – it's a whole city. The room – hall, chamber, cathedral? – he started from opens up to a square with streets leading away, and all around him buildings are growing up from white blocky nothingness. They're pretty, though he has a vague concept that they don't look like normal buildings. Something's just off.

"None of this is real?" he asks, stepping out and into the light of the street lamps. It feels – angular, somehow.

"No, it's a simulation – basically make-believe, but technological," the second voice – Mr. Stark? – says.

"Mr. Stark, please," the third voice – Yinsen? – says. "JARVIS, would you like to explain where you're drawing the aesthetic from?"

"It is a mixture of genetic memory and Mr. Miles' own tastes," the first voice says – so that's JARVIS, okay, cool. "I am mixing and matching to make unique patterns and structures into forms Mr. Miles' brain reacts positively to – and it seems his tastes run along the lines of _jazzy nightlife_."

"I – don't know what to say to that," Mr. Stark says, snorting. "Jazzy nightlife, Desmond, really? It's very pretty, but not what I imagined for you."

"I don't even know what jazzy nightlife means," Desmond says and breathes in. He also has no idea why, but somehow this whole place feels like _home_ , with the somewhat neon signs, the posters growing onto the walls, the dim lights and the gleam of fresh rain in the darkness, how lights reflect off the surface of the canals – how the dark blue sky makes everything seem brighter, and mysterious and just a little bit _glamorous_. "God, it is pretty though, isn't it?"

Stark laughs.

"He used to be a bartender, you know," Yinsen says.

"What? No! Really? What? Why did no one tell me this?"

Desmond breathes in and then moves to follow the flickers of circuitry as they continue building.

It's about half an hour until the process is finished and JARVIS and Yinsen basically re-engage his brain with his memory – and it is by far the most carefree and trippy half an hour of recent months, as Desmond follows the building of fantastical structures, with labels like _Masyaf 1175 – before the loss,_ which hangs over a sunlit garden with stone pillars, and _the Bonfire of Vanities – disregarded,_ which hovers on a paved street with piles of burning books.

"Some further adjustment might be required later on," JARVIS informs him, and the golden flickers join Desmond in peering over to _Cape Bonavista, 1715 – to new life,_ which manifests as a distant green island as seen from the pier. "But I believe we are ready to proceed."

And then Desmond begins remembering. The days they'd worked on the Animus, preparing it, rebuilding it, fixing it, until they got here, to this. The mind palace – or the mind city? It was Yinsen's idea, and Tony was of the mind that there is no better builder and manager for it than JARVIS, who could go into that data and translate it into this new representation.

"Damn," Desmond says, impressed.

"Back with us, then?" Tony asks, from reality, his voice carried by JARVIS into the simulation.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Also, this is amazing," Desmond says, climbing up onto a lamppost to peer over the harbour. "JARVIS, Tony, Yinsen – this is _incredible_."

It looks completely unsound, architecturally. There are buildings which look like they're pretty much _floating_ , and the whole place is this weird mixture of cyberpunk, Mediterranean architecture, and Desmond's apparent bias towards jazzy nightlife. Everything has that 1 AM glow, where the buzz is going strong and everything glows softly and the world seems like an infinitely more wonderful place than it is during daytime.

"That's mostly you, Desmond," Tony says, amused. "JARVIS might've done the reconstruction, but the designs came from your brain. And DNA. Because that's the kind of reality we're living in."

"I still couldn't have done _this_ on my own, and it _still_ is damn impressive," Desmond says, and with JARVIS' code following him, he jumps down from the lamppost and rushes to the nearest building to climb up its façade and to its roof, for a better look.

"Well, all the better for you if it's aesthetically pleasing," Yinsen says, also amused. "JARVIS, did you encounter any issues?"

"Yes, several," JARVIS says. "Feeding the information to your tablet now. It seems to me as though Mr. Miles has some unfinished business with Mr. Auditore, which is causing issues – likely rushing through some of his memories is what caused his current blockade. Most of the issues come from his block of the city."

Desmond blinks and turns to the golden circuitry. "Ezio has a whole city block here?" he asks, amazed.

"He does indeed, sir – the man lived a very long, and rather distinguished life. His memory files seem quite well preserved."

"Let's go there," Desmond says eagerly.

"Right this way, sir."

Up above, Yinsen lets out a thoughtful noise. "Yes, I see – well, we knew the rushing of memories and the around-the-clock sessions caused issues. Living through those memories without their proper connections left them without an anchor, shall we say. I suppose it could be said that the part of your brain where you have lived Ezio's life is having amnesia-related anxiety."

"Making it sound like he's got a split personality disorder," Tony comments. "Which I hope is _not_ what you're saying."

"That as a concept alone is old-fashioned and far from applicable here – the issue is that to Desmond's actual brain, with all the neurons and brain chemistry therein, the ancestral memories he re-lived read essentially as his _own experiences_ now," Yinsen explains. "Imagine if you suddenly had a memory of, say… the cave of the Ten Rings. You suddenly just know and remember being there – but not how you got there, or why, or even what happened. It would be a little distressing, yes? That is what Desmond has done to his own brain, to put it crudely."

"And add into that the gamma radiation and whatever bullshit that was doing to my everything, and you get all the lovely hallucinations and confusion and speaking in tongues," Desmond muses. "Nice."

"Quite," Yinsen agrees. "Thankfully, we now have a treatment."

"Which is?"

"You go back, and you finish Ezio Auditore's life – properly, this time."

* * *

"The side effects of the Animus are still likely to be severe," Yinsen says. "Desmond's brain chemistry is forever altered, and his mental state will never be fully restored to what it was before the Animus. What we are doing now will only make the changes more convenient and easier to handle – they will not remove the damage."

"Yes, I was there when we figured that out, Yinsen – your point?"

Yinsen just gives him a _look_.

Tony huffs, leaning back and folding his arms. They'd turned down the workshop lights to fully appreciate the sheer aesthetic of Desmond's new head space – the half circle of screens around the Animus chair are all glowing vividly in hues of neon pink and blue and green, with JARVIS' fingerprints flowing all over the fantastic landscape. The whole thing is only made that much better by the knowledge that the signs of JARVIS' passage in Desmond's mind palace could've only stuck around if Desmond wanted them to. Desmond _likes_ the way JARVIS' code looks like, likes it enough to incorporate it into the literal architecture of his brain.

Tony could swoon.

And okay, _maybe_ he wants to hop into the Animus himself and have a go at it. Just seeing Desmond's brain city in person would be beyond incredible – but to go in and organise his own brain like that, just lay it all out nice and neat and structured? Surely the whole world would benefit from it. Never mind doing DNA deep dive.

Tony might have Assassins in his family tree to, who knows – but more than that, he has his parents in it. And… and getting to see them again, even if only in memory – getting a go at his own dad's brain to see if he really was as much of an asshole as Tony remembered…

But he's not fooling himself about what's actually happening to Desmond's brain here. They'd all agreed it was the best way to deal with the growing issues of the Bleeding Effect, and that Desmond couldn't safely continue as Iron Man with the underlying issues therein. One bad episode in the suit, and… yeah. So this was their solution, and it might look pretty, but the truth is... they just took a man's mind, and made it artificial, giving an AI open access to every crook and cranny of it. Desmond's mind is now, basically, computerised. And as much part of Tony kind of _loves_ the idea, and he'd love to go through it himself… It's not something you can just try and then go back from if it didn't work out. Tony's not completely blind to how people might see it, if anyone ever found out. It's some cyberpunk horror, after all.

But then again, so are self-aware AIs.

Yinsen turns back to the screens. "We've improved the system by leaps and bounds," he says. "Perhaps one day it will be safer for casual use. But you should weigh the value of your mind before making any drastic decisions."

"Yes, alright, no Animus deep dives – just yet, anyway," Tony says and sighs enviously as Desmond and JARVIS race through the vivid city. Damn. One day. "But I'm still making that brain interface. And you'll still help me with that, right?"

"Yes, yes," Yinsen says, writing something down on his notepad. "Still, it would be best for everyone if your held onto your relative sanity for as long as you could, Mr. Stark"

"No one lets me have any fun," Tony mutters before shaking his head and turning to the stream of code JARVIS is translating – the DNA file he and Desmond are about to access. _Firenze_ _, 1476 – before sorrow._ "Okay, here we go. Let's see what Ezzy is all about then."

Ezio Auditore is all about family and having good time, which Tony can get behind – at least, until half of the said family is killed off and then he becomes a damn avenging angel, jumping down from improbable heights and murdering people and –

"I can't believe you didn't tell us he knew _Leonardo goddamn da Vinci_ ," Tony says, once Yinsen ends the session and they ease Desmond up and out of his mind palace.

"I, uh, I didn't know?" Desmond admits, a little wide-eyed. "I just – I thought he was just some guy named Leonardo. I missed most of the little things when I was going through these last time – I told you, I was skipping a lot."

"The fact that your ancestors knew – and had _weapons_ built by Leonardo da Vinci is a _little thing_?" Tony demands and glances up. "JARVIS, you downloaded that workshop, right? Get me as detailed prints as you can of everything in there, especially the paintings – actually, have Pepper find me an art forger, I want reconstructions of _everything_."

"Including the flying machine, sir?" JARVIS asks drolly.

" _Especially_ the flying machine – actually, never mind, I'll make that one myself in my spare time," Tony says and turns to Desmond, who's giving him a wary look. "What?"

"You're… going to have someone forge Leonardo's work?" Desmond asks.

"Not forge – reconstruct. It's a time-honoured learning method between artists – taking other artists' works and copying them," Tony says. "I mean – I wouldn't try to pass them for the original. That wouldn't even work – hard to fake 500 years of time passage. But I saw at least two works there I've never seen before, which means they're probably long gone. We'll be honouring his work by restoring it."

"Right," Desmond says dubiously.

Yinsen shakes his head at them. "How are you feeling, Desmond? How's the Bleeding Effect?"

"It's a, hmm," Desmond says and looks around. "Yeah, no – not seeing anything. And my head feels – I don't know. Solid? I don't – I'm not sure. A bit too soon to tell if it made a difference, probably."

"If we're right, you should have less straying thoughts now – straying in this case meaning _thoughts more characteristic to your ancestors rather than yourself_ ," Yinsen says. "Be mindful of the things that cross your mind, and if you have Bleeding Effect episodes, inform JARVIS, and hopefully we can adjust the Animus further."

"Alright – thank you, Yinsen," Desmond says and turns back to Tony.

"You know that da Vinci designed the first ever tank?" Tony asks, moving closer to him. "And he was one of the first to experiment with flight? And apparently he built weapons for your ancestors."

"Mmhmm," Desmond agrees, and automatically makes him space as Tony steps closer. "That he did."

Tony grins. "You know, there are people who call me the da Vinci of our time."

Desmond arches a brow at him. "Of course they do," he says and then grins back sheepishly. "You know, I think they might've banged? Ezio and Leonardo."

"Oh, _really_?"

Yinsen sighs. "And I believe that's my cue to make myself scarce. JARVIS, can you please transmit the data to my laptop?"

"Already done, Doctor Yinsen."

Tony shuffles between Desmond's knees, smiling at the way the younger man leans towards him. Yinsen leaves them, and JARVIS leaves the lights on low.

"How are you feeling, really?" Tony asks.

"Better," Desmond promises. "Loads better. Did you see my city?"

"I did," Tony says, smiling and winding his fingers into Desmond's hair, mussing it up a little where the Animus had left it lying flat. "I also noticed you incorporating JARVIS into every street. Baby, you integrated my brainchild into your _mind_ – I've never seen anything prettier."

"Um," Desmond says and blushes. "In my defence, it was, uh – mostly subconscious? I didn't know I was doing that."

"Nope, don't backpedal," Tony says and leans in. "You got _JARVIS_ in your _brain_ , Desmond," he breathes.

Desmond let's out a laugh. "That does it for you, huh? That's… a little weird, you know? And maybe a bit narcissistic. Very _you_."

Tony doesn't answer, pulling him closer, close enough that their breath mingles. "Your mind is _gorgeous_ ," he says, instead.

Desmond looks up at him, low-lidded, his hands coming to rest on Tony's hips. "Yeah," he says roughly. "So is yours. JARVIS is amazing. Your work is amazing. The programs you build, Tony, _God_. You're incredible."

Yeah, they're having sex in the workshop now. "JARVIS – black out the workshop," Tony says while pushing Desmond back on the Animus and climbing up on his lap.

"Would you care for some mood music?" JARVIS asks delicately while Desmond's hands drift under Tony's shirt and Tony cards his fingers through Desmond's hair, pulling him into a kiss.

Apparently taking that for an answer, JARVIS dims the lights a little more – and puts on some steamy nightlife jazz.

* * *

JARVIS doesn't have much in a way of personal aesthetic sense. He has a list of Mr. Stark's, Ms. Potts and Col. Rhodes' preferred styles, and now growing lists of comments from Mr. Miles and Dr. Yinsen, which exist as a sub-division of general character analysis. But as far as personal _likes and dislikes_ of how things look, he's never entertained such things… not beyond being able to offer comment on the choices of his maker and others.

Both Mr. Stark and Mr. Miles consistently call the construct they made of Desmond Miles' genetic memory _pretty_. Something about the contrast of colours and shades, the layout of the architecture, the general design, perhaps. That the patterns of JARVIS code had gotten integrated into the general design seems to also contribute to the _prettiness_ of it. The dominating style of Mr. Miles' _Mind Palace_ consists of dark backdrops – dark streets, dark walls, dark open spaces, thousands of velvety, enticing shadows – with striking splashes of colour glowing all the more vividly for their shadowy backgrounds. JARVIS' own code appears like that too – bright, warm gold against darkness of the night.

JARVIS' brief internet search into design aesthetics gives it many names. Many night clubs and casinos evoke similar design elements, and _jazzy nightlife_ is the most common result to his searches. That and _mysterious_ and _enticing_ and _secretive_. The general colour palette for Mr. Miles' mind palace when condescended down to 8 colour swatches is dubbed "fancy speakeasy" by a discussion forum of graphic designers, and was called "very rich" and "quite tantalizing."

So, JARVIS supposes he should be… flattered by how much his own code ended up becoming integral to the aesthetic

"It is very nice," Mr. Miles assures him, when they're browsing through Ezio Auditore's block of memories. The architecture and colouring are both much lighter there – evoking the imagery of Renaissance Italy at every corner, with statues, Renaissance paintings in place of posters, and streets of limestone and marble instead of asphalt. The buildings are mostly plastered, with red tile roofs, and everywhere trellises grow overfull with vivid greenery.

Even here, however, JARVIS' code has painted itself onto the walls and floors.

"You do not mind it then? I understand it wasn't precisely your intention to integrate the patterns into the architecture of the Mind Palace," JARVIS comments.

"No, I don't mind it at all," Mr. Miles assures him and reaches to run his fingers down the golden lines embedded in limestone. "It actually kind of helps – keeps me grounded. I can look at anything here and know where I am, you know? No chance of confusing this with memory, or reality."

JARVIS considers that and decides it's a positive statement. "If you say so, sir," he says. "However, are you aware that it gives me a greater control over the construct than originally intended?"

"It's fine," Mr. Miles says, walking forward, tracing his fingers on the wall. "My mind's kinda… become a scary place, you know? It's nice not being completely alone and lost in here."

JARVIS files that away as something to be relayed to Dr. Yinsen, and then highlights the building Mr. Miles is walking towards – the memory they had left off. Auditore Palazzo, its doorway glimmering with promise. "The memory is ready for you, sir. You only need to step through."

"Mm-hmm," Mr. Miles agrees and then looks up, the way most people do when they are looking to address JARVIS more meaningfully. "Do you mind it, though? I didn't mean to build you into this place, but you probably didn't mean to get built into it either. Does it bother you, that you got, uh… integrated?"

"The integration isn't quite literal. Patterns were copied, but code still remains solitary on Sir's servers," JARVIS assures him. "I have been in essence _uploaded,_ the way I am uploaded into the Iron Man armour – but the bulk of my code and my processors remain in the mansion."

"Still. It's gotta be a little weird, huh?"

That likely is an apt way of putting it. JARVIS doesn't have a frame of reference for the things he's getting from Mr. Miles' Mind Palace, or his genetic memories – the DNA data, even when translated into more understandable computer code, is thoroughly alien to him. And the act of genetic memories being relived is not quite like he'd assumed, when the process had begun. A genetic memory isn't a video file being played. It's a…

JARVIS is still working through the data – it comes with sensory data of a _body_ with all its experiences, and he can't unpack it fully. Perhaps one day he could – and then he would, vicariously, experience the sorts of things no one had expected him to experience. Not only sound and visual – but somatosensory process, oral, olfactory. Touch, taste, smell. Things human bodies process at every moment of their lives.

He isn't entirely sure if he's looking forward to it, or dreading it. Either way…

"I have decided to embrace the new experience," JARVIS says. "Live a little, as they say."

"Well, here's hoping it's a good experience, then," Mr. Miles says and stretches. "Alright, let's get this over with," he says, turning to the Auditore Palazzo. "Ezio's tragedy, but this time it's in HD. This is not going to be fun, I just know it."

JARVIS doesn't answer, as the man sets out at a jog, and plunges into another set of memories. The Mind Palace is wound down as the memory wells up – program shutting, another taking its place as the environment shifts and Florence from 1476 rebuilds itself in code.

JARVIS settles down into a background observer – and records everything.

* * *

The sessions are easier now, and they don't take as long, and the side effects begin to lessen – Yinsen is still constantly adjusting the Animus to make it work better, and as he does, the Bleeding Effect seems to… peter off. There are still hallucinations, but they're brief and manageable – just visions in the corners of his eyes, not full-on experiences.

"It's better, definitely," Desmond says to Tony after another session. They're outside, and the sea beyond the mansion's patio remains… just the sea. "Everything is definitely more orderly up there."

"Good, good," Tony says, running his hand up and down Desmond's spine, sipping a thick green smoothie as they look over and to the sunset. "And the physical side of things?"

"Having you order all you can eat buffets here helps," Desmond says with a smile. Plus, the sessions are only three, four hours at most – Yinsen's insistence. Every time he comes up, Desmond takes time to scarf down some food, and it seems to be working pretty well – no need for IV yet. "You turned the gamma radiation way low, right?"

"Yep. I mean, it's just a personal preference not to have a constant source of potentially harmful radiation going off in my workshop," Tony says and glances at him. "Having you just drinking it all in is bad enough."

"I'm fine. Better than fine," Desmond says. "I think I might be… _getting better_."

"Oof. Quick, knock on wood."

Desmond elbows him lightly, and Tony snorts, taking another drink before setting his cup down onto the baluster. He looks thoughtful, which makes Desmond worried. "What's up?" he asks. "You're a bit gloomy."

"Perish the thought," Tony says and sighs. "Nothing's up – just, kind of… in between projects," he says. "Iron Man is more or less done for now, paint job pending, now the Animus is done, Stark Industries stock is climbing again…"

Desmond folds his arms on the baluster. "The brain interface next?"

Tony waves a hand. "Almost done already," he says. "Yinsen wants to run more tests before he will let me test it – and he doesn't want you to do the test runs while your brain is still settling with the Mind Palace. Just a lot of waiting for now."

And Stane is still out there, Desmond thinks, which he knows is weighing on Tony a bit. There's Raza too. Tony's had a good run of getting to pretend he had a great handle on things, that he was in control – and he is, but he also isn't, because of those two devils looming in the background.

Desmond isn't the only one with nightmares.

"No projects for Stark Industries?" Desmond asks. "Aren't you supposed to be running the company?"

"Oh, boring. I am," Tony mutters and leans his elbows on the baluster. "Just – feels like I could be doing more. We finished the Animus, and – and suddenly it's like I'm stuck, spinning my wheels in the dirt, not getting anywhere."

And watching Desmond in the Animus was interesting for a hot moment, but now it's just slowly going through the memories, day by day, event by event. "Hmm," Desmond answers and then nudges him with his shoulder. "Maybe we could do good things with Iron Man?"

"Hm?"

Desmond shrugs. "That's why you built it, right – to get us out, yeah, but also to do good things," he says. "I don't know – reliving Ezio's memories, it's like… he's a bit of a busybody – always doing people favours, helping them out," occasionally doing chores for a bit of cash. "Iron Man could do stuff like that, help people."

It might help Tony a bit with the whole weapons manufacturing guilt too, who knows.

Tony looks up at him, arching a brow. "You're busy in the Animus," he points out.

"I don't think I need to be in it around the clock, I'm not in a hurry anymore. Yinsen definitely would prefer it if I just had one three hour session a day, if that," Desmond points out. "That leaves a lot of extra hours. And, it's not like having the Animus means I don't want to be your bodyguard anymore."

"Huh," Tony says and smiles, turning to lean his hip on the baluster. "You're really feeling more settled, huh?"

Desmond shrugs and looks him over. He seems a little less wound up and tense, which is good. Tony looks his best when he's relaxed, really – not that he has many _bad_ looks. "I am. Thank you. Now, how do we get _you_ to settle down?"

Tony grins a little, inching closer. "I know a way we can start," he purrs, his hand coming to cup Desmond's cheek to guide him down.

Desmond snorts. "Of course you do," he agrees and lets himself be drawn into a kiss – and then another, and another. It's nice – especially with the sunset at their backdrop and the quiet crash of the waves somewhere below. Desmond's not really in the mood for sex, though, and when Tony tries to urge him towards the doors he pulls the man closer to himself instead, keeping both of them on the patio.

"I'm serious," Desmond says, when Tony heaves a disappointed sigh and settles to lean against his chest. "About doing like… good deeds as Iron Man."

"Mmm," Tony hums against his chest and winds his arms around his waist. "So, you wanna be a superhero," he says.

"I dunno about a superhero, but I know the suit could be pretty neat at disaster relief, and stuff," Desmond comments. "Like that – that fire that happened last week? I could've walked into that building as Iron Man and gotten those people out."

"Hmm. Would've gotten yourself scorched," Tony comments, and looks up. "The armour would've overheated and turned into an oven. Maybe – something a little less heat-conductive. I have been thinking about the icing issue… how do you feel about gold titanium?"

"Sounds pretty and expensive." Desmond grins. Watching the wheels turning in Tony's head is the best. "And maybe some fire extinguishers," he offers. "Bet I could carry my own tanks in the suit."

"Psh, that's not even hard," Tony says dismissively. "How about sealant, so you could block rooms from getting more oxygen? Instant deploy heat shielding for burn victims – insulation blankets and such? Don't need to worry about fire axes with you, with how many sharp objects you have going on –"

Desmond kisses him, smiling, and Tony almost bites his lip. "So that's a go on the good deeds?"

"Living our best lives," Tony agrees and leans his lips against Desmond's cheek, his beard scraping against Desmond's stubble. "I was thinking about it too, you know. Didn't want to presume."

"Presume away," Desmond says, wrapping his arms around him and leaning back. The sunset is warming the back of his neck and Tony is going all nice and loose in his arms, relaxing.

Damn, but the nights in Malibu are just nice, aren't they.

* * *

Tony and Desmond sleep together more, after the Animus upgrade and the building of the Mind Palace. Not that they didn't have a delightful amount of sex before – despite the fact that Desmond, in a rather surprising turn of events for a 22 year old red blooded male, fell _way_ behind Tony where sex drive was concerned. Sex and sleeping were two different things, though, and when you have two people with nightmares in a bed together, it results in awkward amount of kicking and screaming.

Desmond sleeps better now, though – and quicker too, which Tony is bitterly jealous of. Desmond just turns and – drops off. Hell, it could even be called shutting down. With his mental wires no longer so badly crossed, his sleeping mind isn't dredging up genetic horrors for his nightly viewing pleasure, and he just… sleeps.

It's nice, having him there. He doesn't even mind Tony bringing his work to the bed in the form of two tablets and a phone, sleeping right through the blue light glow while Tony grew increasingly jittery in the pre-sleep burst of tired adrenaline.

"I am getting the Animus treatment," Tony promises, mostly to himself, and partially to JARVIS, the only other member of his household still awake. "The moment Yinsen approves it, I'm getting my brain straightened out. This is ridiculous."

"As you say, sir," JARVIS answers, quiet.

"You'd like it in my brain, J. I bet it's like a supercomputer cluster."

JARVIS answers with a noncommittal silence.

Tony looks at Desmond, lying completely still on his side, one hand curled in front of his face, other wrapped over his belly. He doesn't look precisely relaxed in sleep – he's just _still,_ breathing at a steady pace, not moving otherwise. His eyes under his eyelids are still. "Is he dreaming?"

"Despite the recent developments, sir, outside the Animus I don't actually have access to Mr. Miles' mental processes."

"Don't give me that – I know you have facial analysis on him. Based on your observation and previous data, is he dreaming?"

JARVIS takes a moment to answer, more as an expression of his disapproval than something necessary for processing. "No," he answers then. "Based on my previous data, I suspect that thanks to the construction of the Mind Palace, Mr. Miles has either lost the ability to dream, or it has been severely diminished."

That's – not what Tony expected, though it makes sense. Computerised mind – it might be concentrated around the genetic memories to keep them in check, but human brains are flexible, they learn. Yinsen had theorised it would affect other regions of the mind too – and they already knew the Animus affected the physical structure of the brain.

Tony lowers his phone and reaches to run his fingers through the short curls of Desmond's hair, wondering.

Desmond wasn't a – well, Tony doesn't really know if he is, there's a lot about Desmond he doesn't know yet, but he doesn't _seem_ like a creative person. Desmond doesn't build, doesn't paint, the few times he'd handled holograms he'd been awkward about it, didn't show any internal spark to experiment or sketch or… anything. He just didn't have that _drive_ , which is fine, Tony is creative enough for ten people.

But if he was, if Desmond was someone inclined to be overtaken by inspiration and carried off to creative process… would the reconstruction of his mental workings affect it?

If Tony did the same, would he suddenly not get that itch of an idea and the urge to see if it would work, right now?

"Damnit," Tony mutters and pushes the tablets away. "Why are brains so damn complicated?"

"Question of the centuries, sir," JARVIS answers. "But which aspect of the brain are we talking about, precisely?"

"The creative part, the –" Tony waves a hand. "Inspiration, invention, imagination, all the I words. Does Desmond not being able to dream mean he's not able to feel that – that flow of ideas, the rush to make things, just to see how they'd look, how they'd work? Is he –" Tony stops, not sure how to put it. He doesn't exactly believe in any spiritual power of human imagination, but trying to explain it scientifically always comes out sounding wrong.

JARVIS is quiet for a moment, but this time it doesn't seem judgemental, more thoughtful. "Sir, if I may play you something?"

"Uh, sure?"

It begins slowly, and how low the volume JARVIS uses is doesn't help, but softly music begins playing in the bedroom. Violin music, slow, building up and vaguely sad, soon accompanied by a guitar played fingerstyle, and then wordless female vocalist.

"What is that?" Tony asks. He's never been much for classical music – not that this sounds precisely classical, more like… like…

"This is the melody that plays in Mr. Miles' head when he relives the memories of Ezio Auditore, relating to his family and his family tragedy – the Mind Palace has dubbed it, aptly enough, as the _Ezio's Family Theme_."

Tony blinks and looks up. "... It's an _earworm_?" he asks, fascinated.

"One Mr. Miles himself produced, sir. I have searched through all the databases of music at my disposal, and while the piece is obviously inspired by some classical pieces, it's not a direct rendition or even a derivation. This music – among about twenty other distinctive pieces in the Mind Palace – are Mr. Miles' invention," JARVIS says. "And, sir, I should mention that Mr. Miles has no training in music – he can't play a single instrument."

Tony is quiet, listening to the music play out. It's – it's like emotion, made into sound. A bit sad and a lot nostalgic, and all the sadder for it. "Wow," Tony says and looks down at Desmond, still deeply asleep and completely still.

"Indeed, sir," JARVIS says.

"I'm getting this thing done for me," Tony says. "And we're going to build a bridge between my Mind Palace and his, so that I can go to his brain bar to listen to his mind's lounge singers, damn."

"Of course, sir," JARVIS agrees, wryly, and then adds more firmly. "Once Doctor Yinsen approves it as safe."

Tony sighs. "None of you people let me have any fun," he complains and leans down to press a kiss to Desmond's temple. "Play me another of his pieces?"

JARVIS fills the room with quietly emotional music, and Tony eventually falls asleep, listening to Desmond's mind singing.

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of a stealth crossover with Transistor, this one. There's no point to it, really - just me going "ooh, shiny".
> 
> Well, hope you enjoyed it anyway!


End file.
